


That One Time Tony Stark (Not Iron Man) Saved the Day

by Howlingdawn



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Maybe more tags to be added, post-endgame and ffh but in that land of denial where everybody lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-18 00:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17571047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howlingdawn/pseuds/Howlingdawn
Summary: In 2027, Morgan Stark is feeling a little down. So, to lift her spirits, Peter recalls the events of a mission gone wrong back in 2019, when following up a tip turned into Peter and Tony getting kidnapped and Rhodey racing to find them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up that, for every chapter of this that I write, I have to go write one in my book, so I can't promise regular or speedy updates, but I'll do my best!

_**2027** _

The Stark-Potts living room was, naturally, massive, and only the most advanced entertainment technology sat within it, but the color palette and family photos and memorabilia neatly scattered around made it cozy. Peter sprawled on his stomach on the room's fluffy carpet, eyes glued to their massive TV, playing Mario Kart with the vibranium-infused controller Shuri had made him (he kept breaking the normal ones in his exuberance).

Beside him, eight-year-old Morgan laid on her stomach too, her homework spread on the floor in front of her. She had her long ginger hair tucked behind her ears, and she absently chewed her lip. Beneath the sounds of a red shell hitting his character, he heard her pencil stop moving across the paper, and he shot a glance at her.

An hour in, and half the pages in front of her were still untouched. Pepper insisted that she go to school with her peers, but she had inherited Tony's genius – her homework never took more than half an hour, which was why Peter had let her put off doing it until after dinner. But here she was, staring blankly at fractions when Peter knew she could breeze through pages of calculus like it was nothing.

He paused his game. "What's up, kiddo?"

She shook her head, blinking to refocus. "Nothing."

Peter rolled onto his back and wiggled over to look up at her. "Come on, M&M," he wheedled. "Talk to me."

A smile broke across her face. "You're so weird, Petri."

"So I've been told."

He flipped over and sat up. "Come on, kid, what's wrong?"

Morgan sighed and sat up. "I just miss my parents," she sighed. "They're not usually gone this much."

"I know," Peter murmured. "But your mom's trying to close a really important deal, and your dad wanted to back her up. They'll be home in a few days."

"But it's already been three weeks," she said miserably.

She sniffled, and Peter reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder. He babysat her whenever he could, and never once had she gotten near to crying before. After she had learned to talk, anyway. She was used to Pepper traveling all the time, but Tony usually stayed behind with his daughter when they didn't take her along. This really was her first extended period without both parents, and Peter knew from his college days that calling, even two or three times a day, just wasn't the same.

"Tell you what," he said, beginning to push her papers into a pile. "If you can put a smile back on your adorable little face, I'll tell you a story."

She perked up. "About Daddy?"

"Yup."

She beamed. "Ok!"

He scooped her up with ease, carrying her to the couch, sitting down with her on his lap. "What do you want to hear? I can tell you about this one time he came swooping in-"

"Nah," she interrupted. "I want to hear a story about Daddy saving the day, not Iron Man."

"You know they're one and the same, right?"

"Not to me."

Peter smiled – of course she'd think that way. He had all but retired when she was born, only putting on the suit for special appearances and extreme emergencies, both of which were few and far between. The world may know Tony as Iron Man, but Morgan only knew him as Daddy.

"I've got just the one."

\-----

_**2019** _

Peter ducked the gloved fist Mr. Stark threw at him. It brushed his hair, tracing a path through his curls. "No spidey sense, Peter," Mr. Stark reminded him.

Careful to restrain his strength even more than usual, Peter hit back. He came up for an uppercut, fist flying for Mr. Stark's chin. When he turned on his heel to avoid it, Peter took advantage of his unbalanced stance and slugged him in the side, making him stagger. "It's basically enhanced anxiety, Mr. Stark, I always ignore it."

He managed to recover on his own just before slumping against the boxing ring's ropes. "That's fair," he said, sizing Peter up. "You're improving."

Peter beamed. "Really?"

In the moment of joy, he relaxed, his stance softening and his hands starting to lower. He realized almost immediately, but it was too late. Mr. Stark surged forward, delivering a solid blow to his stomach, making him double over. He grabbed Peter's shoulder and spun him around, wrapping an arm around his throat.

"Yeah," he said. "But you've still got a ways to go. Cause if I had a knife or the desire to break your neck, you'd be dead now."

Peter furrowed his brows. "Uh, that kinda makes it sounds like you wanna stab me. You don't, do you?"

Mr. Stark chuckled, releasing him. "Not at the moment. Go on, get a drink."

Peter ducked out of the ring, heading for the chairs where MJ and Ned sat. He dropped his gloves and picked up the water bottle he'd left beside them, taking a long drink of the refreshingly cool liquid. "Oh, that's good stuff."

MJ didn't look up from the textbook propped between them, hardly pausing in answering their math questions. "You invited us here to watch you win, Peter."

"I didn't think he'd ban me from using my powers," Peter muttered, dropping down beside her. He tried to nestle his chin on her shoulder, but she waved him off.

"You're sweaty."

Peter stuck out his bottom lip in a mock-pout. "But _MJ_ ," he whined.

She didn't look up, but she did smile.

Ned wasn't paying attention to their version of PDA, instead looking across the room at where Mr. Stark and Mr. Rhodey were talking. "Maybe he banned you from using your powers because you brought us to watch you win."

Peter cast a glance at the two heroes, narrowing his eyes. "You may have a point."

"Of course that's why," MJ said simply. "He's trying to keep you from getting an ego. It doesn't suit you. Besides, if you can fight without your powers, then you'll be prepared for anything. He's trying to keep you safe."

"Come on, it's not like I'll ever lose them. I can't. They're as much a part of me as breathing is."

Finally, MJ looked up, aiming a stern look at him. "And you've stopped doing that before."

Ned winced and Peter dropped his gaze, remembering those last moments on Titan, the way MJ had swept him into a hug when he finally returned to Earth. "Right," he mumbled.

This time, when he rested his chin on her shoulder, she didn't push him away. She even leaned into the contact a little.

A few minutes later, Mr. Stark came over. "Ready for another round, kid?"

He was about to nod when Mr. Vision came in. It had taken the combined efforts of many scientists, including Shuri and Mr. Stark, but they had managed to resurrect him without the Mind Stone, leaving a jagged scar where Thanos had ripped it from his head. "We may have a mission," he called.

Peter rose, everyone turning to the android. "What mission?" Mr. Stark asked.

He held up the tablet he'd brought, pulling up the Avengers tip line, selecting a message, and handing it over. "We received intelligence of a possible active Hydra facility in Florida. It appears credible enough to be worth investigating – they even reference the Cradle prototype that was stolen three months ago."

Peter peered over Mr. Stark's shoulder. "There are still Hydra bases? Didn't Cap expose them like five years ago?"

"It was four years, nine months-"

"Ah, we don't need the specifics, Vis," Mr. Stark interrupted quickly. "But thank you."

Mr. Vision stopped with a blink. "But he asked."

"It was rhetorical."

"Ah."

Mr. Stark handed the tablet to Mr. Rhodey. "Yup, tip seems credible, but everyone else is off doing other stuff. Just me and Vision up against potentially a whole Hydra facility?"

Peter's hand shot into the air. "I can go!"

Mr. Stark started shaking his head. "You need-"

"Come on, Tones," Mr. Rhodey said. "Let the kid go. This place isn't far from tourist central – if it does exist, it'll be small. They won't want to fight Avengers. The three of you can handle it, easy."

Peter and Mr. Stark both stared, surprised by the unexpected support.

"What?" Mr. Rhodey said. "I can be the cool uncle figure."

Ned laughed.

Mr. Stark considered for a moment. "All right, on one condition: Ask Aunt May. She'd skin me alive for taking you on an impromptu mission on a school night without being consulted."

Peter deflated a bit. She had learned to be supportive of his alter ego, but mostly in terms of the "friendly neighborhood" part. She still stressed over every bruise and cut she saw, and while he sometimes appreciated the attentive fussing and appreciated that she had learned to bite back the lectures, he knew she spent her days awaiting _that_ phone call. Again. The odds of her letting him go were slim.

(He'd also just remembered it was indeed a school night. Tuesday, to be exact. Not Friday like he'd been thinking for hours. School had closed early that day, he wasn't used to early outs in the middle of the week.)

"Ok," was all he said, reaching for his phone and heading for the hall.

_"Hi, honey,"_ she answered. _"What's up?"_

"Uh, well, something came up," he said, pacing up the wall to hang from the ceiling. "Someone sent in a tip about a secret Hydra base, and I wanted to go with Mr. Stark and Mr. Vision to check it out."

_"A Hydra base? Peter, that sounds-"_

"It might not even exist," Peter elaborated quickly. "And if it does, it's close to civilization, so it'll be small and help wouldn't be far. Plus, I'd be with two of the strongest Avengers. I'll be fine, May."

She hesitated, pausing for so long Peter checked to see if the call had dropped. But finally, she asked, _"Where is it?"_

"Florida. We can be there and back in time for bed."

_"…Ok. But text me when you get there, text me when you leave, and text me when you're back at the compound. Promise?"_

Peter grinned. "I promise, May. Thank you!"

_"Stay safe, sweetheart."_

"I will. Bye!"

He hung up, dropping to the ground and running back to the others, waving his phone around. "She said yes!"

Mr. Stark looked surprised. "Did she real-" His phone buzzed from an incoming text, and he glanced at it. "I guess she did. All right then, kid: Suit up."

Peter bounced eagerly in place, then paused. "Wait, about Ned and MJ?"

"I'll get them home," Mr. Rhodey offered. "Want some ice cream on the way?"

"Yes!" Ned exclaimed.

Assured that everyone was taken care of, Peter started to bound off, but MJ caught his hand. He turned, and she leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. "Don't die, Peter."

Peter smiled, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "See you soon, MJ."

Then he turned and ran for the locker room.

\-----

"What do you think we'll be facing?" Peter asked, leaning against the pilot's seat to peer outside. "Aliens? Superpowers? Advanced tech?"

Mr. Stark handled the controls with ease, searching for a place to land the quinjet. "No idea," he said. "Probably not aliens, though. Vision, you getting anything?"

Mr. Vision looked down at the device he held, a tool Peter and Tony had designed a couple months ago based on Star Trek tricorders. "Nothing," he reported. "The warehouse appears to be lined with a material that is blocking my scans."

_Advanced tech,_ Peter decided silently.

"Damn," Mr. Stark said. He'd found a clearing behind a hill and was guiding the quinjet into it. "We'll need your hearing at the door then, Peter."

He bounced a little, still thrilled at the prospect of being _needed_ on a _mission_ by _Iron Man_.

The quinjet landed with a gentle bump, and Mr. Stark double-tapped his arc reactor to activate the nanites. Peter watched in awe as they spread out to envelope him, helmet closing in last and eye slits flashing to life. Then he slipped on his mask and followed the two adults outside, absently responding to Karen's cheerful greeting.

They reached the top of the hill, looking forward to the warehouse. Mr. Rhodey's guess had been right – as far as warehouses went, it was small. Small and grey and rusting in spots, with the parking lot out front made of cracked pavement and devoid of cars. Peter tilted his head, confused. "This doesn't look like a good evil lair."

"No," Mr. Stark agreed slowly, "it doesn't. Stick close, Spidey."

He nodded, staying in between and just behind the other two as they advanced on the building. He kept a wary eye out for any, but he saw no guards of any sort, not even a single agent sneaking out for a cigarette. _Do they care about that? They wanna kill everybody, I don't see why they'd bother going outside for a smoke._

The only thing he noticed, really, was his spidey sense pinging off the walls.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," he murmured. "My spidey senses are tingling."

"I thought you ignored your spidey sense?"

"Not when it's this strong."

Mr. Stark nodded. "Can you hear anything?" he asked as they reached a side door.

Peter pressed his ear to the gap between the door and the wall. He expected the clanging of heavy machinery, the whisper of evil conversations, or even just the hum of computers. But there was nothing. "No."

Mr. Stark waved him back, and Mr. Vision took his place. He took hold of the door handle while Mr. Stark fired up his repulsors. "Three… two… one!"

Mr. Vision pulled the door open and Mr. Stark dove inside, sweeping the room in one fluid motion. Peter entered after him, hands up and ready to fire his webs.

There was no need.

The warehouse was one massive, entirely empty room.

Peter stopped short but, remembering the practice fight, kept his webs ready. "What the hell?"

"Must be abandoned," Mr. Stark said.

Something tugged at Peter. For a split second, he thought he saw some sort of movement against the far wall. "Wait. And stop making noise."

Both of them froze instantly, and Peter focused. In the absence of footsteps and moving metal, Peter heard what he hadn't heard outside: Humming technology, from the direction of the far wall. And beneath it, soft breaths and beating hearts. He took a step forward, examining it intently.

There. A flicker. As if they were looking at a… "Karen? Is that what I think it is?"

_"I am already scanning,"_ she said. _"And it is indeed a-"_

A warning flared on Peter's HUD, followed by a ripple of energy rolling through the room. _"Peter!"_

It passed through Peter without hurting him, but with a spark, Karen fell silent, his HUD dying with her. Mr. Vision stuttered in place, and Mr. Stark's suit stopped glowing.

Simultaneously, the holographic wall shut off. Revealing three rows of heavily armed, black-clad agents, and a single woman in a lab coat. She smiled. "Hello."

Beside her was a machine, a cylinder that reached up to her hip, and it sported the only light left in the building. Peter put the pieces together with a gasp.

_That was an EMP. This was an ambush._

She pressed a button atop the machine, and it flared red for a second. This time, Mr. Vision fell to his knees, and Mr. Stark's nanites rippled, some falling to the ground, leaving cracks in his armor. Both men were rooted in place, unable to move. And the pulses kept coming, the machine flaring red with each one, Mr. Vision falling further and Mr. Stark's suit withdrawing more and more with each one.

"Spider-Man," Mr. Stark said through gritted teeth, " _run_."

Peter wanted to hesitate, to say he wouldn't leave them behind, but he had learned long ago that this wasn't the movies. There was no pulling off a miracle rescue – even with his strength, he couldn't pull both men to safety before they all got shot. And he'd promised May he'd stay safe.

So he turned to run.

The scientist signaled to the agent next to her. He brought his gun to bear, and in the fleeting moment he saw it, Peter realized it didn't look like one of the usual assault rifles he was used to seeing in the movies. A moment later, he realized why.

The agent fired once.

The tip of a dart sank into the back of Peter's neck.

He managed to stumble forward a few more steps before the tranquilizer dragged him down.

The last thing he felt was rough hands grabbing his arms and hauling him away.

The last thing he thought was _I forgot to text May._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, I swear I meant to have this up last Sunday, but then the Endgame spot aired like two hours earlier than I expected (I'm gonna die in April, if I didn't know before the TV spot I certainly know it now) which threw off my editing plans, and the rest of the week was a week from hell, and I'm facing two more similar weeks, so I just. I'm throwing this chapter up now before I can delay it anymore.

_**2019** _

Rhodey didn't pace when he was nervous. Pacing was taking time and energy and putting it into a useless activity that accomplished nothing. Instead, he took his nervous energy and put it into something more useful. Right now, that translated into lifting weights until his light grey tank top was dark with sweat.

"When did they leave again?"

Happy was leaning up against a different piece of exercise equipment, twirling his phone in his hands. Rhodey knew its silence was bugging him – the kid was always texting him updates when he was on patrol. He pretended to be annoyed by it, and on some level he probably was, because everything annoyed Happy, but he was fond of the kid, and any unexpected silence bugged him more than the constant texts.

It bugged Rhodey too. He was a soldier – he knew that missions went awry. But the stress brought on by that silence never faded.

He set the weights down, sitting up. He tried to keep his voice nonchalant, hoping to calm both his nerves and Happy's. "It's been a few hours."

"So the kid should've texted."

"Maybe he forgot," Rhodey said.

"Or Tony should've sent an update."

"Maybe the mission got derailed a _little_. Maybe there's no reception, or they're in stakeout mode. Come on, Happy, you know these things happen. It doesn't mean the world is ending."

He winced a little at the word choice, and Happy shot him a glare. "You also know how much of a danger magnet those two are. I know you're thinking exactly what I am."

"Yeah," Rhodey murmured, running a hand over his head. Most people would've been fooled by his calm front, but Happy knew his tics. He rose stiffly, pressing a hand against his aching spine. "We'll give them another hour. Text the kid, message Tony and Vision. If they don't respond, we'll go after them."

Happy nodded. "And what are you going to do?"

He made a show of sniffing his armpit and recoiling. "Shower."

"Good idea."

\-----

_Bang. Bang. Bang,_ went the hammer in Tony's head. He groaned, lifting a hand to gingerly feel his temple, vaguely recalling hitting it against the floor when a tranquilizer dart made him fall. To his surprise, it had been bandaged.

_Wait. Who bandaged it?_

His eyes shot open. He was lying on the bottom bunk of a rickety bunk bed. The room was clearly a cell, with four walls of drab concrete, a toilet and sink in one corner, and a metal door with no handle. He sat up, ignoring the pain that pulsed through his head, focusing instead on the hazy memories.

_The EMP knocked out Vision, and my suit. And… The kid. Peter. Where's Peter?_

"Peter?" he called, standing to look at the top bunk.

Empty.

_Did he make it out of the warehouse?_

_What about Vision? Why are there only two beds? There were three of us. Then again, he doesn't exactly need a bed-_

The door creaked as it opened. Tony spun around, nearly all of his previous experience with such situations telling him to expect a pair of massive, heavily armed guards to come in and drag him somewhere less pleasant to be… _questioned_.

Instead, it was the lady in the lab coat. She had her blonde hair tucked into a ponytail, and a pair of stereotypical black nerd glasses framed sharp blue eyes. Beneath the coat, she wore a pale blue turtleneck, black pencil skirt, and black heels.

"Who the hell are you and where's the- where are Spider-Man and Vision?" Tony demanded.

"Follow me."

Tony pursed his lips, but there were the guards he'd been expecting, stepping inside as she exited to make sure he followed. With little choice to the contrary, Tony followed her into the hall. As he matched her stride, he scanned the halls and rooms they passed, making a mental map of… wherever they were.

"My name is Doctor Erika Lewinsky," she said. "And you, Tony Stark, are here for a very specific reason."

"Where is here?" _And where's the kid?_

But he didn't want to sound pushy about it. If Peter was here, they could and would use him as leverage. No need to make him even more appealing for that task by letting on that they were closer than generic colleagues.

"You need not concern yourself with that," she answered. "You are here to do a job. Once that's done, you'll be sent home. You will only be harmed if you resist. Understood?"

"Well, _that_ sounds too good to be true."

The corner of Erika's mouth twitched up into a wry smile. "I promise, Mr. Stark, we are not like most of the criminal organizations you usually face. We're not even really criminals."

"Um, you kidnapped an Avenger." _Or two or three._ "I'd call that a crime."

"And as I said, you will be returned home once you're done. We simply couldn't ask you to come, for this had to be secret."

"See, that sounds very criminal-y."

She didn't respond. "Here," she said, stopping and pressing her thumb to a scanner beside a door. It beeped, and the door popped open with the click of the lock. She pulled it fully open, gesturing for him to enter first.

He did.

His heart stopped.

There was a large table with a familiar machine atop it to the left of the large laboratory, but Tony paid it no mind. His attention zeroed in on the not-so-makeshift medical area to the right, consisting of a set of monitoring machines on either side of a hospital bed. On that bed, with an IV attached to his arm, was Peter. Out cold, wearing a baggy shirt and pants that definitely weren't his.

"What did you do to him?" Tony snapped, barely resisting the urge to run to his side and tear out the IV pouring who-knew-what into his veins.

"Relax, the IV is merely a sedative," Erika said calmly. "He began waking up while we were still removing his suit. It should wear off before too long."

Tony whirled to face her, flinging his hand up, expecting a gauntlet to encase his hand and shoot her.

Instead, a strange cuff on his wrist shocked him, sparking with electricity the moment he attempted to activate his nanites.

"Ow!" he hissed, jerking his wrist to his chest. _How did I not notice this thing?_ He investigated it; the outer side was simple sleek metal, but when he peered underneath, he saw the glimmering blue lights of technology.

"An EMP cuff," Erika said. "If and when you attempt to use your nanites, it will sense their movement, deliver a mild shock to distract you, and use that current to stun your nanites. You won't be suiting up until it's removed."

Tony set his jaw. _Fine. Once the kid is up, we can break out of here._

"Oh, and if you're thinking of using Peter's abilities to make an easy break for it: Stop. We designed a serum that suppresses his powers, turning him back into your average teenager. Or, less than average, looking back at footage of his middle school football games. He won't be of much use to you."

Tony took a step back, moving protectively closer to Peter. "You know his name?"

Erika nodded. "You really should tell him to lose his civilian clothes less often – tracking Spider-Man back to his apartment really was far too simple."

_Damn it, kid. I told you to find a_ good _place to change, not random alleyways._

"And you may as well go to him – we know how close the two of you are. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were father and son."

Never looking away from her, Tony backed up to Peter's side. He picked up the kid's hand, searching for his pulse. There. Maybe a little weak, but steady. There were some bruises on his hands and face, maybe from the same type of fall that had given Tony his busted temple, but aside from that and the unconsciousness and the serum, he looked fine.

"See? No undue injuries. Really, Mr. Stark, I want the two of you to get home safely as much as you do."

"I highly doubt that," Tony said, setting Peter's hand down but letting himself linger over the contact. "What about Vision?"

"He wasn't necessary. He was left at the warehouse."

_So Rhodey will find him. Good._

"Even if Colonel Rhodes finds him, it won't be of much use. We are well-hidden up here."

_Up. So we're north of Florida. That's… a start._

"Can you stop reading my mind? It's freaky."

"I assure you, it's predictability, not telepathy."

Tony put a hand over his heart. "How _dare_ you say I'm predictable."

Erika turned slightly, holding her hand out to indicate the rest of the lab. "This is one of Helen Cho's Cradle prototypes."

"So _you_ stole it," Tony said. Helen had reported one of her prototypes missing a few months ago, but no one had been able to find any leads. _These guys are good,_ he admitted grudgingly.

Erika nodded. "We hoped my team and I could get it working, but Cho is a smart woman – her tech is ingenious, and therefore above our skill level. Slightly. But, knowing her, she'd know exactly how to boobytrap it if we picked her up to fix it, so we picked the second-best person for the job: You."

_Great. The one time I'm second-best at something, and it gets me and Peter kidnapped, and Vision disabled in a Florida warehouse. Typical._

"What job is that, exactly?"

"It was damaged in the escape, on top of not working correctly in the first place. We want you to fix it."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "That's it."

"That's it."

_That's too easy._ "And what, exactly, are you planning to use it for?"

"That's for us to know and you to not care about," Erika answered firmly. "Just fix it, and you both go home."

Tony glanced at Peter, helpless until the sedative wore off. His left hand quivered, and he quickly clenched it into a fist, wishing he had a pair of sunglasses he could slip on to hide the movement. "Fine. I assume I have all of the tools I'll need?"

"Of course."

_Good. There'll be more than enough to plan an escape with._

With that, she turned to leave. The guards left first, and she paused before following. "Oh, and Mr. Stark? Should you do anything rash, such as attempt to escape, we will not hesitate to punish the boy for your actions. Severely. We need you healthy, but his only role here is leverage. Understood?"

Tony glared. "Understood."

_And you have_ got _to stop reading my mind._

\-----

_**2027** _

"Wait. My dad agreed to work for terrorists?"

Peter shifted Morgan to a slightly better position on his lap. "He was under duress, that makes people agree to a lot of things. Or at least pretend to agree to them."

Morgan blinked curiously. "So he was faking?"

"Spoilers, kiddo. Any other questions?"

"Yeah. How do you know what happened while you were unconscious? Or what Uncle Rhodey was doing?"

"I read all the mission reports. We all had to file them after the Accords were passed."

Morgan giggled. "You like reading mission reports?"

"They're _cool_ ," Peter said defensively. "We can't _all_ spend _all_ of our time obsessively rewatching the Land Before Time movies."

"Sure, _Petri_. Sure."

Peter laughed. "All right, fine, you got me. Do you want anything to eat or drink before I continue?"

Morgan shook her head. "I wanna know what happens next!"

"Patience, young Padawan. Patience."

\-----

_**2019** _

Peter woke to the sound of metal clanking against metal. It was distant, muffled, but enough to stir him. He lifted a heavy hand to scrub at his eyes, stopping when he felt the brush of gauze on the inside of his elbow. He tilted his head to look at it, still fighting off sleep. Since when was it this hard to wake up from being-

_Tranquilized. I was tranquilized._

_Am I back at the compound? My spidey sense isn't going off…_

But when he looked around, he definitely wasn't in the compound's medical ward, which he'd been in far too many times for May's liking. (But really, he was usually just there for caution's sake upon Mr. Stark's insistence. He wasn't really ever hurt _that_ badly… much.) This room apparently doubled as a lab, which was very unsanitary.

_But- If Mr. Stark is in the same room as me, why does his work sound so… quiet?_

"Mr. Stark?" he mumbled, pushing himself up on one elbow.

Mr. Stark looked up immediately, dropping the wrench he had been wrestling with. Relief flooded his eyes, a relief he immediately tried to mask. "Peter! You slept long enough, kid."

Peter started fumbling with the gauze, trying to pull it off. If it was just a needle mark, it would've healed within seconds. _And why is that sedative_ not _wearing off? I haven't been this tired since-_

Mr. Stark clamped his hand down over the gauze. Peter stopped, if only because he was confused – when had he walked over here? Why couldn't Peter hear his heartbeat? "Leave it. How are you feeling?"

"Tired, but otherwise… Was there an explosion? I can't- I can't hear right."

Something flickered through Mr. Stark's expression, too quickly suppressed for Peter to see it. "You getting any anxiety? Any tingling of the spidey senses?"

Peter furrowed his brows. "No, but… that means we're safe. Right? We're safe?"

_But- but it would be reacting to the traces of sedative. I should still be-_

_My spidey sense isn't working._

_My hearing isn't working._

He looked back at the lab, trying to focus on the machine lying on the table. But it wouldn't come into focus. It stayed blurry, as if he still needed the glasses he'd worn before the spider bite.

_Before the bite. I haven't taken this long to shake off a sedative since I got my appendix taken out. Before the bite._

Peter knocked Mr. Stark's hand aside, tearing the gauze off.

His arm was still bruised. With a little red dot where there had once been a needle.

Peter looked up at Tony, trying to swallow down sudden panic. "My- my powers, they're not- My powers aren't working. Why aren't my powers working?"

Mr. Stark took a deep breath, resting a steadying hand over Peter's shoulder. "They… they won't work, kid, not while we're here. The people who captured us, they gave you something – a serum. It suppressed your powers."

Peter couldn't breathe.

Without his powers, he was just a kid. A kid who couldn't play football, let alone protect others, let alone help them escape. Even _with_ his powers, he'd already died once. Already lost his uncle. Because he couldn't protect him.

"Hey," Mr. Stark said firmly. He crouched a little to look Peter in the eye, catching his chin and tilting his head up. "We're getting out of this, kid. You've still got that big brain of yours, and you have all of the skills I and the others have taught you. Ok? No one would be an Avenger if their only asset was strength or speed or spidey sense."

"But-"

He held up a warning finger. "Ah, no, no buts. You see that big ole pile of tech over there? Steve and Wanda wouldn't be able to make any sense out of it. Maybe it was your special senses that spotted that holographic wall, but it was your normal mind that figured out it _was_ a holographic wall before even two AIs and an android did. No one sticks around the Avengers for three years and counting solely because of superpowers, kid. Hell, without tech, most of us don't even have any. So powers or no powers, you belong here and you have an important role to play. That's the point of us being a team."

Peter nodded a little, sniffing. "Ok. Ok, yeah, you're right."

"Of course I am," Mr. Stark said, straightening up and patting his back. "Now come on, help me with that big ole pile of tech."

They headed over to the machine. "Is that a Cradle?" Peter asked curiously, running his fingers along its sleek edge. He'd heard of them, obviously, and knew they were amazing, but there had never been any reason for one to visit the compound while he was there, so he'd never seen one before, or met Dr. Cho.

Mr. Stark nodded. "Our job is to fix it, and then we get to go home."

Peter blinked. "That's not like any movie I've ever seen."

"I know," Mr. Stark muttered, quiet enough that Peter was sure he wasn't supposed to hear it. "Uh, I mean, it's the deal we made," he corrected himself more loudly.

Peter smiled a little. "I know how hostage situations work, Mr. Stark. We gotta escape."

"Yup," Mr. Stark agreed. "And while we figure that out, bring me that screwdriver."

Peter turned, spotting what might be an open toolbox at the other end of the long table. It also might've been Mr. Stark's dinner. "Uh, Mr. Stark? I need glasses."

"…Right."


End file.
